The cockscombs filling the garden in full bloom from summer into late autumn, I loved them and sang of them, and then invited Academician Yi Baekjeon to sing of them with me雞冠花滿苑盛開。自夏至秋季。愛而賦之。仍邀李百全學士同賦。
Dongguk Isangguk Jip (Collected Works of Minister Yi of the Eastern Country) 東國李相國集 · Yi Gyubo · Compiled 1241 (Goryeo, 28th year of King Gojong); revised and enlarged 1251 · 1 passages · 117 Chinese characters · reading time 1.2 min
Dongguk Isangguk Jip (Collected Works of Minister Yi of the Eastern Country) Latter Collection, Book 5 The collected writings of Yi Gyubo of Goryeo, gathered and cut in woodblock by his son Yi Ham in 1241 and revised and enlarged by his grandson Yi Ikbae in 1251. It holds poems and rhapsodies, memorials and reports sent up to the king, records written for temples and pagodas, stele and tomb inscriptions, letters and prefaces, and the state letters that passed to and from the Mongols during the invasions. The Lay of King Dongmyeong, which sings the founder of Goguryeo, stands in volume 3 of the first collection, and the daily life of a man who called himself the White Cloud Layman — with his wine, his zither and his verse — fills the later collection. The book closes with the last poem he wrote as his eyes failed and he laid down the brush, and with the dirge and tomb inscription others made for him after his death.
It seemed to grudge flowering on the empty ground,
and now it has taken a whole garden and blooms — truly at its height.
All other flowers open and fall in spring and summer only,
but you cross the summer and enter late autumn: how pitiable and lovable.
Who first called you a cockscomb?
Your high topknot is red beyond compare.
I suspect that long ago there was a fighting cock
who all at once met a sturdy match and came to his death.
From crimson comb and crimson kerchief the blood was sprinkled and fell,
and the brocade embroidery was torn and lay scattered over the ground.
His spirit did not rot together with the mud,
but became at once a flowering flower, boasting its deep purple.
The cock's □□□□□□□□□ form is still so of itself.
Facing the wind you love to lift it up and hold your head straight,
and you would rise up and shake yourself against a foe once more.
It is fitting — cast off that haughty heart of yours.
Only bloom diligently and welcome those who come to look.